


Shackled

by NayaFan_UnholyUnderBoob



Category: Glee
Genre: Caning, Dom/sub, F/F, Humiliation, Ownership, Slave/Mistress, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NayaFan_UnholyUnderBoob/pseuds/NayaFan_UnholyUnderBoob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brittany turns 18, her father takes her to buy her first slave, Santana, and the high standards she holds herself to no longer matter as she and her friend, Quinn, push the boundaries of ownership. Contains non consensual DD that is harsh at times and later chapters can only be described as kinky as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Brittany frowns from her place at her bedroom window as she watches Quinn tug harshly on her slave's leash, snapping at her to move quicker and bundling her into the red Mercedes that sits idly by the edge of the sidewalk. She can't imagining forcing her future slave to wear their leash every single day like Quinn does to Sugar. The leash was supposed to be used when your slave is being unruly or at important gatherings so that people know who they belong to. She's excited about going with her father to pick out her own slave today. She had spent the whole of her eighteenth birthday, the day before, telling everyone that would listen about the type of slave she was looking for, a muscular and tall man who could tend to every single one of her needs. Of course, she must be careful while choosing her slave as there is one need he is forbidden to tend to. The law states that no slave can participate in sexual relations with their owners and there is only one punishment for breaking this law, death. The only way a slave can get out of this punishment is if they can prove their owner forces it upon them and no proof will be taken seriously unless someone other than a slave can back them up. That had never happened. Brittany is pretty sure that Quinn's last slave died for nothing, the smaller blonde may look cute and innocent to outsiders but Brittany knows differently. She's almost certain that Quinn's last slave hadn't been the one to initiate the more intimate side of their relationship but, of course, saying so out loud would only make a bad name for herself.

"Hey Princess, you ready to go?" Richard Pierce asks from the doorway, his face splitting into a beaming grin as he gazes at his youngest child. "So grown up already," he adds, mainly to himself.

"Sure Daddy, let's go," Brittany replies eagerly, grabbing her jacket as she quickly follows her father, the greying man placing an arm around her shoulders when she catches up with him. They are silent as they walk down to the large garage, comfortable in each other's company and Brittany notices her father's slave, Finn, following behind them at a respectful distance. She wonders how she will feel having someone follow her around for the rest of her life, having someone that's only priority is tending to your needs and doing exactly what you tell them to do, no matter how irrational it is. She nods to the slave when he opens the car door for her and she slides into the back seat with her father, Richard ordering the driver to turn the radio off.

"Now Pumpkin, we need to talk about what's going to happen today," he says to his daughter as the car rolls out of the garage.

"I know Daddy, we've gone over the rules several times, I know everything I need to know about owning a slave," Brittany states, rolling her ice blue eyes.

"Yes you do but I'm talking about what you have to do today princess. I can't come down to the cells with you, when a person turns eighteen it's a right of passage for them to choose their slave by themselves. The guards will try to talk you into picking who they think is right but it's extremely important that you choose one that you want, pick one that you think you can live with for their rest of your life. It says a lot about a person if they have to return their slave, none of them good and I don't want that kind of stigma attached to our family," Richard states seriously. "Also, you're young and still understanding the ways of the world so I don't want you to get upset with the conditions of the slaves' living quarters at the board house, remember that they are not like us and they don't need or deserve anything more than they have. They are slaves, unimportant and small and easily replaced if they are too weak to survive."

"I understand Daddy," Brittany responds with a firm nod.

 

0-00-0

 

Brittany walks along the concrete floor with a look of disgust on her face, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent of body odour that lingers in the air. She looks in each barely furnished cell as she passes them, taking in the ragged and dirty appearance of each man, noting how scrawny they all look. She glances at the warden and shakes her head, the man nodding and leading her through the heavy metal door at the end of the corridor.

"Are you sure you want you want a female, Miss Pierce? I was under the impression that you wanted a male, the females aren't as strong," the warden explains to her.

"From what I've seen, the men aren't all that strong," Brittany remarks and the warden relents, walking ahead of her to talk to the other guard while she makes her selection. Brittany slowly walks passed the row of cells, eyeing each girl carefully and noticing that none of them make eye contact, which pleases her. She stops outside one of the cells, it's inhabitant catching her eyes. This girl isn't hiding in the corner of her filthy cell like the others, she's sitting on the edge of her bed and gripping the worn sheets in her hand, looking more furious than scared. Dark, almost black, eyes meet Brittany's, her gaze strong and defiant and her jaw set. Brittany takes in the girl's appearance, her jet black hair and tanned skin setting her apart from the pale washed out girls she shares the cell block with.

"You don't want her, Miss Pierce," the warden tells her, "she's previously owned. Her owners didn't want her anymore, she's more vermin than the rest of them" he adds, sending the Latina a look of disdain. "She spends more time being whipped than the rest of them together," the man sneers.

"Details?" Brittany asks sharply, ignoring his previous statements.

"Santana Lopez. Seventeen years old and trained by the Hummels," The warden tells the young woman, looking rather put out at being brushed off in such a manner. "Really Miss Pierce, you don't want her," he adds.

"How much?" The blonde asks, gazing curiously at the tanned girl in the cell.

"Three thousand."

"I'll take her," Brittany states firmly, smirking at the scowling Latina. Santana keeps her dark gaze locked with her new owner's piercing blue one, her tanned, beautiful features twisting into a lock of pure disdain as she eyes the other girl while the warden watches in interest, deciding the young blonde had bitten off more than she can chew. He mutters into his radio and waits until a guard enters the corridor before he appoaches the cell, carefully watching the slave girl as he unlocks the barred door of the cell and pulls it open. The guard pointedly tap his hand against the baton that hangs from his belt as he slips an old, ratty collar around her neck and uses it to forcefully pull Santana from the cell before clipping the leash to it and silently handing the leash to Brittany.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Brittany turns 18, her father takes her to buy her first slave, Santana, and the high standards she holds herself to no longer matter as she and her friend, Quinn, push the boundaries of ownership. Contains non consensual DD that is harsh at times and later chapters can only be described as kinky as hell.

Chapter 2

Santana looks around her at the huge mansion as she pulled from the car, her eyes widening slightly at the huge space that her new owners' owned, taking in the perfectly manicured lawn and the immaculately kept flower-beds. She doesn't think she has ever felt more out of place in her life, surrounded by people of a much higher class than her and the latina suddenly self consciously feels the grime of her cell sticking to her body, realising it has been weeks since she has been allowed to shower. Richard Pierce wrinkles his nose in disgust as he yanks harshly on the leash of his daughter's new slave, the tanned girl jerking forward as she is handed off to the maid that came outside to greet them.

"You know what to do!" he snaps, the maid nodding and tugging Santana's leash until the girl follows her into the mansion, the latina turning her head to look for her owner, spotting the blonde girl standing behind her father and watching her with an unreadable expression on her features. She doesn't fight as the elderly maid drags her up the concrete steps and through the heavy wooden door, knowing it'd be easier on her neck if she just kept up with her.

"In here," the maid states, stopping at a random doorway and shoving Santana into the room and unhooking the leash from her collar. "Fresh meat!" she calls into the room, closing the door and leaving the young woman alone with two men.

"Looks like Mistress Brittany has good taste huh Sammy?" one of the men sneers, running his hand through his messy mohawk, gazing at Santana as though she is a piece of meat and slowly approaching her.

"Let's just get this over with, Puckerman," the blonde man mutters, stepping in between Santana and the other man, the latina's breath hitching as she tries to work out what they're going to do with her. Sam gently grasps the girl's arm and pulls her towards him and Santana struggles violently, desperately trying to rip her arm from his grip. "We're not going to hurt you," the man states sincerely. 

"The more you struggle, the longer it takes little one," Puck grunts, hooking his finger into her collar and dragging her over to the table in the otherwise bare room, save for a couple of chairs in the corner. The much is much stronger than her and her struggle proves to be futile as he bends her over the table and kicks her legs apart. "Grab the edge of the table," Puck orders and in the latina's position, she realises it's best for her to obey so she grips onto the opposite edge of the wooden table so tightly that her knuckles turn white and strain against the skin. Puck slowly pats her down while Sam watches with a hint of distaste on his features as the other man runs his hands down the girl's legs before pulling the much too large trousers down and feeling the bare skin underneath. Santana squeezes her eyes closed as Puckerman cups her sex before using both of his hands to grab her ass roughly, pulling her cheeks apart as she burns with humiliation. It had been women that had searched when she arrived at her first owner's home and the whole thing had been so clinical and quick that she didn't have time to be embarrassed. This time, however, she could feel every breath and hear every tick of the clock she couldn't see while the man pawed at her.

"Alright, Puckerman, she's not hiding anything," Sam sighs, meeting the other man's gze and motioning to the door on the opposite side of the room that Santana had yet to notice. The latina gasps as she's yanked upright, her trousers pooling around her ankles while her ragged sweatshirt is pulled from her body, leaving her naked as the day she was born. Sam grows impatient with Puck's leering and he uses the girl's collar to pull her towards the other door and Santana realises what's about to happen, remembering from her time with her first owners. The men push her into the wet room and push her against the far wall, muttering for her to face the white tiles and she tenses in anticipation.

"Good afternoon, Mistress Pierce." she hears Puck say and heat rushes to her face as she realises her owner is in the room. "Just the decontamination shower to go and she's all yours," he adds as he picks up the powerful hose. Santana gasps as the freezing cold blast of water hits her, feeling as though the forceful jet is pummelling her skin as the man hoses her down from head to toe at an agonisingly slow pace. The water chills her to her bones and goosebumps jump up all over body. "Turn around," Sam calls out and the Latina forces herself to swallow her humiliation as she slowly turns around the face the men and Brittany. She notices the sadistic grin on the Mohawked man's face as he blasts the front of her body with the ice cold water and she looks down, unable to meet any of their gazes.

"That's enough!" the blonde man calls out sharply and the stream of harsh water abruptly stops. Santana stands shivering in the same place, her gaze remaining firmly on the ground as she listens to the men leave the room. 

"Come here," Brittany orders quietly, the Latina shuffling towards her and stopping a few inches away from the blonde woman who had bought her. The slave stays perfectly still as warm hands remove the ratty old collar from around her neck, replacing it with a brand new black leather one with 'Brittany .S. Pierce' printed in small gold lettering on the front. The slave doesn't move as her owner begins to towel her dry, trying to ignore how intimate it feels as Brittany lifts her arm and applies deodorant before doing the same with the other arm. She feels like a child as her owner dresses her, knowing that this is the other girl's intention and allowing her underwear to be drawn up her legs. What she doesn't realise is that Brittany is nervous, having had no experience other than watching her parents interacting with their slaves and she runs through the memory in her mind to know what to do next. "Why did your previous owners send you back?" she asks.

"They wanted someone stronger, a man, Ma'am," Santana murmurs.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," the blonde snaps, suddenly enjoying the amount of control she has when her slave's head whips up, dark eyes gazing at her with a hint of rebellion hidden in them. "Now, we have an engagement at the Fabray household tonight," Brittany begins as she pulls a pair of yoga pants up her slave's legs and motions for her to put the tank top on. "You will follow every order I give you and you will not cause me any embarrassment tonight or you will lose the ability to sit comfortably, do you understand me?" the blonde asks sharply, reciting what she had heard her Mother say to her slave just the other day.

"Yes, ma'am," Santana grinds out through gritted teeth.

"And even god himself will not be able to help you if you anger Quinn Fabray," the owner adds cryptically, the latina wondering just how bad this Quinn girl could be. "I will not force you to wear the leash unless we are at a function or if you lose the privilege to walk at your own pace. There are no second chances, you mess up and you will be punished; no matter where we are or who is with us. I have only one rule and that is you do as I say when I say it," the woman adds. The slave unintentionally rolls her eyes, one rule only, one rule that basically covered every other rule inside it anyway, it must be the owner's way of trying to seem reasonable. The santana flinches as her owner's hand sharply stikes her cheek and she brings her hand up to hold her stinging face. The latina forces herself to not look down, knowing it would only earn her some more punishment and this is exactly what Brittany is waiting for, realising she has underestimated the blonde.

 

0-00-0

 

Santana looks around her new bedroom in silence, well aware of her owner standing in the doorway..feeling her eyes on her. She hadn't been surprised when Brittany had led her into her own bedroom and pointed to the closet, it is customary for personal slaves to be close to their owners during the night. What she hadn't expected was the single bed and carpeted floor inside the closet. Her last owners had made her sleep on the floor of a dusty closet that was never used but here, here she has a bedroom, albeit a tiny bedroom, but a bedroom all the same. She gazes around the tiny room and takes in the cream walls and navy carpet, unable to speak due to the lump in her throat that catches her off guard.

"You do as I say and you'll be looked after," Brittany states. "Go against me and you'll regret it," she adds coldly, sending a chill through Santana's body. Her dark, almost black, eyes lock onto the metal ring that is screwed to the wall above the bed, a chain and shackles dangling from it. . Brittany follows her gaze and smirks as she walks further into the room, her hand pressing against Santana's lower back as she pushes her closer to the bed. Santana watches as her owner pulls the chain and attaches the shackles to Santana's wrists, the latina instantly rebelling against the restraints and trying to pull away. "Stop!" Brittany's terrifying yell causes Santana to freeze and she glares at her owner, her chest heaving with the force of her breaths. "I was showing you what would happen if you can't control yourself, are you going to listen to me or do I have to keep you shackled?" Brittany asks menacingly.

"I'll stay calm, ma'am," Santana grinds out, having to force herself to be respectful and to listen to her owner.

"Glad to hear it," Brittany states with a smirk as she unlocks Santana's wrists, the latina instantly snatching her hands away and folding her arms across her chest. "Hands by your side!" Brittany snaps. "Learn to show some respect!" The tall blonde hooks her finger into her slave's collar and yanks the girl from the room, into her own bedroom where she motions for the latina to sit on her bed. Santana watches warily as Brittany crosses the room and opens the other closet door, pulling out a long cane and closing the door again. She's angered people enough in the past to know what the cane is for and, as much as she doesn't want to admit it, she's terrified.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to freak out..I just panicked," Santana quickly chokes out, her eyes never leaving the wicked looking cane.

"Relax, little girl," Brittany chuckles. "You're not being punished..yet. I'm just showing you what will happen when you do earn a punishment. Although, if you continue with your disrespect and speaking out of turn, you'll feel this before the day is done," she adds darkly. "Count yourself lucky that I was the one who bought you and not my father, that little tantrum you just threw would have earned you a taste of his whip. There will be no more of that, do you understand me?" Brittany questions furiously, surprised at how natural this all feels to her. She relishes the control she has over the tanned beauty that sits in front of her.

"Yes, Ma'am," Santana whispers. She continues to watch as her owner lays the cane on the bed, inches from her foot, and starts to rummage through the chest that sits at the bottom of the bed. What Brittany doesn't tell her slave is that it's unlikely she will ever be caned, she has felt the cane on bare skin herself and it's a kind of pain she would never wish to inflict on anyone; not even a slave. She will if Santana forces her to though. Santana isn't surprised by any of the implements her owner pulls from the chest, her last owner had used them on her before. She knows she's lucky to have been born a girl, she had witnessed a male slave being punished before and it was much harsher than anything she had even been threatened with before.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Brittany's furious voice cuts into her thoughts and Santana whips her head around to face her, the fear on her face telling her owner that, no, she hadn't been listening. Blue eyes bore angrily into dark brown for what feels like hours before Brittany reaches into the chest again and pulls out a leather leash. "Well, little girl, it seems like you've already earned yourself some time on the leash," Brittany states and Santana swears that she can see disappointment, not anger, in her deep blue eyes but only for a fleeting moment, cold anger replacing the disappointment as quickly as Santana had seen it. "Perhaps I should borrow my Father's whip, maybe that would instill some obedience in you or perhaps I should invest in one of my own," Brittany murmurs dangerously.

"That won't be necessary, Ma'am," Santana whispers, "I'll do better next ti.." She's cut off by the stinging slap her owner leaves on her face.

"Speak when you have permission to speak, slave," the blonde woman bites out. Santana bites her tongue and gazes back at her owner in confusion. She had told her to only speak when spoken to but hadn't she been speaking to her? Santana begins to feel uneasy, her owner isn't being clear and she isn't allowing her to ask questions, how is she supposed to stay on Brittany's good side if the rules aren't clear. Unless..this is Brittany's plan, a way to keep her on her toes or maybe she wants the slave to slip up..maybe she wants the oppurtunity to punish the girl. Brittany clips the leash onto Santana's collar and tugs sharply, the slim latina painfully lurching forward. "Move!" the owner snaps simply, pulling her slave from the bedroom and down the hall. Santana keeps her gaze focused on the plush, red carpet as she is led towards the foyer, jogging to keep up with the taller women so as to relieve some pressure from her neck.

"Sweetheart, I've been looking all over for you!" Brittany stops abruptly when she hears her Mother's voice, Santana almost bumping into her.

"Mom, hi." Brittany smiles as an older version of herself walks over to them, Santana noticing that the smile is strained and doesn't reach her owner's eyes. "Did you think to check my bedroom?" Brittany asks in a sickly sweet voice.

"I was just about to. I heard about your..purchase," Susan Pierce states, her eyes raking up and down Santana's slim body in disgust. "You know, your sister went out of state to find herself a decent male slave, we can always take you to find one," she adds, ignoring the fact that Santana is right there, and can hear her. Santana doesn't react, she used to it. Slaves were always treated like this and, as much as she doesn't like it, she accepts it.

"I doubt that will be necessary, Mother," Brittany replies formally. "Santana knows my rules, I'm sure her training will go well," she adds coolly.

"Well, as strict as I'm sure you are, perhaps you should ask your sister to show you the ropes," Susan suggests, her judging gaze glued to her youngest child.

"I don't need Ashley's help, Mother," Brittany replies in a clipped tone. "I'm quite capable of handling a slave by myself."

"Very well," Susan mutters. "Anyway, I just came to let you know that I will be accompanying your Father on his business trip this weekend. The guards will be here if you need anything which I doubt you will, considering you are capable of handling things," she adds, Santana swears she can hear sarcasm in the older woman's voice and she instantly dislikes her, something that confuses her. Her owner hasn't exactly been nice to her, why would she feel this sudden urge to protect her from her mother? Santana opens her mouth to say something but is stopped by the violent tug on her leash, Brittany giving her a warning look. "Enjoy yourself at Quinn's party, dear," Susan offers as she turns on her heel and walks back down the way she came.

"You came very close to earning a punishment, I don't ever want to have to warn you while we're in the company of my mother again. Do you understand me?" Brittany demands, her sky blue eyes shimmering with anger as she glares at her slave.

"Yes, Ma'am," Santana mutters.

"Don't you ever be alone with her," Brittany murmurs darkly. "I don't want you being alone with anyone apart from me but I especially don't want you alone with her," she adds seriously. Santana frowns as she nods, desperately wanting to know why her owner is so distrustful of her own mother but knowing it isn't wise for her to ask. She remains silent as Brittany continues walking, dragging her along the hall and into a large dining room. "Sit," the blonde orders, pointing to a chair next to the one that she sits in. Santana is surprised, her old owners made her sit on the floor and would allow her to eat their leftovers but here, here she has a plate in front of her and a seat to sit in. "What's the problem?" Brittany asks, watching her slave curiously.

"There's no problem, Ma'am. It's just different than what I'm used to," Santana stutters.

"Would you rather sit on the floor?" Brittany questions, a small glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"No, Ma'am!" the slave replies quickly, suddenly wondering if she had just lost herself this privilege by questioning it.

"You follow my rules and you will have basic privileges, you cross me and you will lose them. Not only will you be punished but you will be confined to your shackles at all times until I say differently. Now, while we are waiting on our food, I would like to talk to you about tonight. Miss Fabray is a close family friend and I want you to be on your best behaviour. I will not hesitate to punish you in front of everyone. In fact, you will most likely see other slaves being punished while you're there and if you step out of line in Miss Fabray's home, she will see to it that you are suitably dealt with. Do you have any questions?" 

"Are slaves kept in a seperate room?" Santana asks, remembering a time when she was locked in a room during a party while she was still with her old owners.

"They are unless their owners decide to keep them with them. You will be with me during the party, I want to keep an eye on you," Brittany tells her. "Do not make me regret letting you off lightly for your tantrum," she adds in a deadly calm voice as a maid brings their food to them. Santana nods, her mouth suddenly dry as she stares down at her food, no longer hungry.


End file.
